


Occam's Razor

by Rose_of_Pollux



Series: Inktober for Writers, 2019 [20]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-27 03:20:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21111812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: In which an overworked agent can easily overlook the obvious answer to a conundrum.





	Occam's Razor

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by today's Inktober prompt ("tread").

There was something about old houses that made Napoleon more cognizant of the otherworldly sightings and tales. Though the phrase “haunted house” seemed inherently childish to even think about, it was, nevertheless, on the forefront of his mind whenever he and Illya had to investigate such a place.

Illya was a hard one to read in regards to matters like this as of late—initially, when Napoleon had first met him, Illya, a firm agnostic, hadn’t believed in anything of the sort. But they’d seen a lot of strange and unexplainable things in their missions across the years. Illya was hardly a believer, but he certainly couldn’t ignore the things that they had seen. Though he would never admit the possibility of such things existing out loud, of course

And that was why the both of them had to stand and contemplate for several minutes the footprints they’d been following, as the shoe treads stopped at a solid wall—and seemingly vanished.

“Well, what do you think?” Illya asked, after a few minutes of this.

“…I think I need coffee,” Napoleon muttered.

“You think it was a ghost that went through the wall?” Illya asked.

“I didn’t say that,” Napoleon said. “But I’m considering it, and that means I need coffee to… not consider it.”

Illya, now inspecting the wall carefully, paused as he found something amiss. He knocked on the wall with his fist first, and then pressed on the wall.

His hand sunk into the wall via a small panel; a large section of the wall lifted, revealing the footprints going further into a passageway.

“…Oh, thank God…” Napoleon said.

“Napoleon, you have been on your feet for days,” Illya said, as he and Napoleon headed carefully into the passageway. “You need sleep.”

“And coffee.”

Illya suddenly froze, and Napoleon did as well; the words had been barely out of his mouth when the passageway led them to what looked like a cozy, secret study. There was a small bookshelf next to a large, plush armchair beside a lit fireplace. A small table was next to the armchair, with a hot pot of coffee sitting upon it.

Napoleon wordlessly indicated the study—and the coffee.

Illya took a look at it, and then picked up the closest book from the tiny bookshelf.

“_Hamlet_,” he observed. “Between this and the coffee, it was almost as though they were expecting you.”

“Maybe they were…” Napoleon said.

He used a poker from the fireplace to poke at the armchair and check it for a multitude of traps that would be activated by any pressure on it.

“Do you wish for me to run some chemical tests on the coffee?”

“No, I think the adrenaline kicking in is enough to ensure that I’m wide awake. How about we wait here and see just who set this up for us?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Illya stated.

They sat together in the large armchair after both of them had deemed it safe, enjoying the crackling warmth of the fire.

Sometimes, missions did have their perks—even the weird ones.


End file.
